


Maybe

by JayceCarter



Series: Random Fallout Shenanigans [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Friendship, Gen, No Smut, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:04:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9801857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/pseuds/JayceCarter
Summary: A quiet night leads Nick and Nora to ponder why the two of them travel together when they couldn't be less alike.





	

 

Nick sat on a rock by the fire, Nora laying on her sleeping bag.  She’d destroyed the gunner camp with the same brutal efficiency she did everything else. The woman was destruction, and the only thing anyone could do was try to point her away from innocents.

 

And even then, Nick wondered if he managed it. Did the ends justify the means? Could he ignore all the people hurt or killed, so long as she killed more of the bad guys?

 

They butt heads constantly. She resorted to violence first, had no patience, and never listened. How many times had she and Nick stood, chest to chest, screaming at each other in front of bystanders?

 

She backed down, usually. She’d glare at Nick, call him a name, and storm off. Later she’d come back, offer no explanation, just sit beside him like she soaked up something from him, some level of calm.

 

“Why do you keep me with you?” Nick flicked the ash from his cigarette to the dirt. “You fight me tooth and nail, Doll. If you took MacCready you wouldn’t have to wear yourself out arguing. The two of you could loot and kill to your little mercenary hearts content.”

 

“Are you telling me you want to bail?”

 

“No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying that two people so unalike don’t normally make great traveling companions. I’m saying you’re always doing things I hate, and getting you to listen is like pulling teeth, so why do you keep me?”

 

She smiled, her face transforming into a younger person, a woman he could see from the old days: sweet, naive, good, all the things this Nora wasn’t. “I’m gonna crash, Nick. You want to call it quits, it’s on your head, not mine.”

 

She stayed quiet long enough, Nick thought she had fallen asleep. His questions had never bothered her before, and she’d never struck him as the type to stay up and ponder the mysteries of conscious. Even after all she’d seen, all she’d done, nightmares had never plagued her.

 

 “I’m not a good person.”

 

“Yeah, you are.” Nick shoved the words out, but they both could spot the lie from a mile away.

 

“Don’t bullshit me. I know what I am and I know what I’m not, and I’m not good.”

 

“You’ve done a lot of good, helped a lot of people.”

 

She laughed, an ugly sound that reminded him of a dog dry heaving. “Nah. You’ve done good. I just tag along and shoot shit.”

 

He held out a cigarette for her but she shook her head. “Does it matter? The world is a better place because you’re in it.”

 

“You sure? I think sometimes it would have limped along just fine if my cryopod had broken, too. Imagine all the people who’d still be walking, talking, breathing.”

 

“Remember that father at Abernathy Farm? The one who wanted his daughter’s locket back.”

 

Nora pressed a canister of jet to her lips and hit the plunger. Nick took it as a yes.

 

“Remember his face when we gave it back to him? You’ve done good.”

 

“Maybe.” She closed her eyes as the jet floated through her. “Maybe.”

 

They lapsed into another round of silence as the jet worked, a stupid smile sliding across her lips. He hated the chems, but he hated a lot of what she did.

 

Why did he stay?

 

Because being beside the fire was better than being in front of it. Because pointing a gun yourself was better than tossing it aside and hoping no one else picked it up.

 

“You remind me of who I could have been.” Jet made her words lazy, stringing together.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Her teeth caught the gleam from the flames. “I could have been a good person, I think. When they shot Nate, when they stole Shaun, I twisted. I turned into, whatever this is. I see you walking around, doing good, helping people, and I think ‘I could have been that.’”

 

“Still could be. It’s never too late.”

 

“Maybe not for you, but for me? It’s a long fucking time too late to change. 200 years too late. But you, you’re the good synth on my shoulder. That annoying voice in my ear that tells me to pull it back, to stop. I know I don’t always listen, but I hear you. I do. I don’t feel things the way I should. I know I should care, but I don’t, and that’s the only thing that scares me, the idea of who I could become. I don’t take MacCready with me because I think, without you, I’d burn the whole Commonwealth.”

 

He put his cigarette out in the dirt, crushing it beneath his shoe. What was there to say back?

 

“You asked me why I keep you. It’s because I need you, Nick. I’m not a good person, but with you, maybe I could keep from becoming a monster.”

 

 “Maybe.” Nick let his eyes slide closed. “Maybe.”


End file.
